


Damask

by midnightweeds



Series: Bloom [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Late at Night, Married Couple, Multi, Romance, Summer Love, Triad - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 17:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightweeds/pseuds/midnightweeds
Summary: “Oh,” Tom breathed, hesitating in the doorway. “I wasn’t spying.”Hermione offered him a grin, leaning away from Abraxas and getting up from the couch. “You can’t sleep either, huh?”“No,” he confirmed, watching as she lit a few more candles. “I was hoping to open the windows and cool off some.”“It isn’t helping,” Abraxas explained, waving his hand to all of the window. “But we’d be glad for the company.”





	Damask

**Author's Note:**

> _like a rose_

“Oh,” Tom breathed, hesitating in the doorway. “I wasn’t spying.”

Hermione offered him a grin, leaning away from Abraxas and getting up from the couch. “You can’t sleep either, huh?”

“No,” he confirmed, watching as she lit a few more candles. “I was hoping to open the windows and cool off some.”

“It isn’t helping,” Abraxas explained, waving his hand to all of the windows. “But we’d be glad for the company.”

“How about a round or two of rummy?” She questioned, waving a delicate pack of playing cards in the air. She tossed the pack to the blond.

“Let me grab my robe,” Tom announced.

“Oh, nonsense. It’s hotter than hell in here, man.” Abraxas pulled himself up from the couch, revealing that he was dressed in little more than his boxers, and sat at the breakfast table.

Hermione poured them all glasses of wine, leaving the the bottle on the edge of the table. As Abraxas shuffled, he asked, “Tom? Could you turn on a record?

“Oh, something sweet, please,” Hermione agreed as she sat down.

Tom watched them for a moment, drinking in the sight. They couldn’t have been any more different, but together they were the most beautiful young couple he’d ever seen. If he’d been grateful to have been accepted into Hogwarts’ summer science program, he was even more so to have sat down next to Abraxas on the first day psych. He’d had one dinner at their home and it seemed as though he’d never left. Discussing ethics and morality with Hermione in the mornings and watching the pair make dinner together in the evenings while he and Abraxas shared their day with her had become a routine he couldn’t imagine living without.

He wanted a world of them, and often considered what it would be like when he left. Tom didn’t doubt his abilities- he’d gotten his master’s degree at 19, and was nearly done with his second PhD at 25-, he was certain that he could mold anyone back home into them. The problem was that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to recreate the experience, he wanted to be a part of it.

The nervousness they made him feel fed something in him he’d never known existed.

He turned and turned on the record the often heard them dancing to. As he sat down, Hermione offered him a smile she usually reserved for Abraxas, and Tom suddenly felt as though he was dreaming. Which was fine with him. The music kicked in, and they began to play.

As the night wore on, they drank and played rummy, both men obviously amused by how much she enjoyed it. Tom only realized they was drunk when Hermione persuaded him to collect all the candles and flowers in the room and place them on the table. It was a horrible idea, but Abraxas encouraged it, and as they continued to play, he enjoyed watched the shadows dance across their features as the heat of the candles drew the roses more fragrant.

He considered what it would be like to trace the shadows on the both of them. To draw the petals and stems across them. To draw a knife across them. He figured he could keep them that way, too.

“Well, I don’t doubt you,” Hermione was saying. “But I don’t think you’re right, either.”

“Can you believe this, Tom? You tell her, man! He’s got a whole doctorate in it, love. You can’t argue with him.”

“Of  _course_  I can argue with him, don’t be silly.” She made a face, reaching for the bowl of frozen grapes Abraxas had brought from the kitchen.

Tom reached forward, saving the sleeve of her robe from the fire, but spilt her glass of wine upon the table. Hermione looked at Abraxas, who began to laugh, and she did too, pulling her arm away from Tom and gripping his hand in thanks. He looked up from the stained tablecloth and roses, uncertain of what they were laughing about.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, brushing her long curls over the back of it as she studied her cards. Her skin was shiny with sweat, glowing in the candlelight, and he could see the dusky coloring of her nipples beneath the thin fabric of her robe. As her eyes lifted from her cards to Abraxas, Tom felt as though he was suddenly invading on something he wanted nothing to do with. Or everything to do with.

“I should retire,” he told them. “I’ve a rotten hand, anyway.”

As he got up, he felt foolish, watching as they continued to look at each other as though they hadn’t heard him. He set his cards down on the table and looked out the window behind Abraxas. As he swallowed down his feelings, ridiculous as they were, he realized that the blond was watching him.

“So soon?” He questioned. “I was hoping to watch you make love to my wife.”

His face, already flushed from the heat, deepened in coloring.

“Well, I was hoping to watch the two of you,” Hermione countered with a frown. She set her cards down too, twisting her hair into a bun on top of her head.

They looked at him expectantly, and Tom wasn’t sure if he was coming or going. “I would be open to either. Both.”

Abraxas and Hermione shared a grin.

“You two first,” the blond said as Hermione got up.

Tom watched Abraxas’ eyes track her, watching as she drew her fingers across his back before making her way to her husband.

As they kissed, he picked up his wine glass and downed the rest.

“I want to watch you ride him there on the couch,” Abraxas murmured against her throat. “With the ocean and the moon behind you.”

“Funny,” she drew her fingers through his hair, “I want the same thing.”

Tom watched as she reached out a hand for him, hardly able to believe his ears or eyes. As their fingers met, he felt his body responding, noting the hunger in Abraxas’ eyes.

“Sit,” she demanded, untying her robe as he did so.

Heaven help him- she wasn’t wearing anything beneath it.

She smiled at him as she straddled his lap. “Question, Dr. Riddle,” she posed, lips brushing his chest.

He hummed in response.

“Don’t forget to use your hands, Tom,” Abraxas encouraged.

“Do you create the world, or does the world create you?”

He would have answered- he would have told her it had belonged to him his whole life. That he was willing to share it with her -with them-, if only she asked. But, she didn’t give him time to. Instead, her nails drew down his stomach, as she leaned in for his mouth, hair coming undone over them. His last rational thought was that she smelled of sun and sweat and roses.

And he was hungry.

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my tumblr, honeyweeds.
> 
> thank you so, so much for reading


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